


Destiny

by FrankenSpine



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chosen One, F/F, Magic, One Shot, POV First Person, Prophecy, Reluctant Hero, Romantic Friendship, Sympathetic Villain, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: Emma is a seventeen year-old Princess who is told that it is her destiny to defeat the Evil Queen and the Army of the Undead. As she soon comes to find out, it isn't necessarily the Queen who is evil.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 113





	Destiny

They told me it was my destiny to defeat the Evil Queen and her undead warriors. Me, a frail Princess of just seventeen years-old, with no experience in combat whatsoever. I protested— I did everything I possibly could to fight it— but my parents, under the influence of an Oracle, were adamant that I was the Chosen One. My heart was racing. My blood felt like ice within my veins. No, not ice. _Oil._ Cold oil, ready to combust at any given moment.

Now here I was, donning a helmet too large for my head and armor that didn’t quite fit, and wielding a sword I could barely lift. I was more terrified now than I had ever been in my life. They had sent me to the Evil Queen’s fortress, insisting I had fate on my side, as well as the Gods. I believed strongly in the Gods, but _this?_ This was madness.

That was precisely what the Evil Queen said the moment she laid eyes on me. She was gaping at me in a mix of shock and outrage, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

_“Do my eyes deceive me?”_ she rasped.

In my naïve young mind, I thought this would be enough of a distraction to gain the upper-hand. What a fool I was. I tried to lift the sword— to swing it at her— but it slipped from my hand and I gasped, swiftly attempting to reach for it as it clattered onto the floor. I feared she would use magic to try and stop me, but she didn’t. Still, I froze in sheer terror as she approached me, ever so slowly, and I reluctantly lifted my head to meet her conflicted gaze. I sucked in a breath when her hands cupped my face with a shocking tenderness. To my surprise, they were warm, not cold like death. Tears welled in my eyes, as I was certain this would be the end of me.

“It’s alright,” she told me in a soft, almost maternal voice, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I struggled to find my own voice. “W-What?” I breathed, “But, I—”

I fell silent as she pressed a finger to my lips.

“Shhh,” she cooed, “They sent you here didn’t they?”

Her voice was soft and gentle, yet there was fury lacing her words. I could only nod in response, too petrified to stop her as she pulled my helmet from my head.

“This is unacceptable,” she rasped, “This is _suicide.”_

She cast the helmet away in anger and I winced when it crashed onto the floor. I stiffened when I felt her fingers toy with the ends of my golden hair.

“Those fools sent a _child_ to eliminate me.”

She sighed, carefully unfastening the straps holding my armor on. It, too, clambered upon the stone below. I was defenseless and exposed. She cupped my face once more, and I was unable take my eyes away from hers. This woman was hauntingly-beautiful, tempting and terrifying all at once. Her mere existence was incomprehensible to me, as was her horde of undead warriors. I wanted to stop her from disarming me, but I was frozen in fear. Despite what she had said before, I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t hurt me.

Her eyes stared deep into mine as she held my face in her hands. “You never should have come here,” she said, “It was terribly cruel of them to send you— to make you fight me, when you clearly aren’t prepared.”

“But I’m the—”

“Chosen One?” she asked softly, shaking her head, “No. You never could have won. Not like this.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It isn’t your fault, child. I hold no ill will against you.” I was left utterly speechless when she pulled me into a light embrace, cradling the back of my head. “You don’t have to go back there,” she told me, “Stay with me, dear girl. You’ll be much safer here.”

As much as I didn’t want to believe her, I did.

“I— I can’t,” I rasped, “I can’t abandon my parents. They’re counting on me.”

I felt her stiffen, and she pulled back to stare at me in disgust and horror. _“Your parents are the King and Queen?”_

I swallowed. “Y-Yes.”

“They sent their own daughter to fight their battle?” She scoffed as she turned away. “And they have the _audacity_ to call _me_ the evil one?!” When she looked back at me, there was pain and remorse in her eyes. “I will not allow you to go back,” she said, leaving no room for debate, “You are _my_ responsibility now.”

“Please, I—”

“Hush,” she murmured, lifting my chin gently, “They do not care for you as a daughter. They sent you here to die. You and I both know you never could have defeated me. The prophecy is as vague as it is fabricated. To them, you were only a tool. No more of this. I will not harm you, and that is a promise, for you have been betrayed by those two just as I have— but I cannot allow you to leave this place, Princess.”

I was overcome with a feeling of dread as this realization sunk in. She was right. My mother and father had used me, and for what? Revenge? Spite? The dread I felt was soon snuffed out by a primal, animalistic rage that had lied dormant within me for some time, perhaps my entire life. The oil in my blood had ignited, so to speak.

“Why do you care what happens to me? Am I not your enemy?”

“No,” she told me in a soft voice, “I do not harm children.”

“I’m not a child,” I argued, “I’m seventeen.”

She smiled faintly and shook her head. “Still, you are far too young to be in such a position. You lack experience in battle. They say you are the Chosen One, but did they even bother training you?”

I faltered. “N-No.”

“As I suspected. You could hardly even lift your sword, Princess. It is not your place to fight me, much less kill me. You are just as much a victim as I am.”

This made me frown. “How are _you_ a victim? You’re sending undead soldiers to take over my kingdom!”

Her eyes narrowed. “That kingdom, girl, belongs to _me._ I was its rightful Queen, but then your parents usurped my throne and banished me here. They slaughtered my soldiers and all who were loyal to me, but now I have brought my followers back from beyond the grave.” She placed her hands upon my shoulders. “I suppose they never bothered to mention _that,_ either.”

“No,” I rasped, “They didn’t.”

Again, I didn’t want to believe a word she said, but I sensed no deception in her voice. I’d always been able to tell whether or not someone was lying, and so far, she hadn’t. I was deeply conflicted by all of this, having been told my entire life that she was the most evil, conniving, and cruel woman to ever walk the earth. Being here now, however, I saw none of that. She seemed almost like a friend, in a strange sort of way. Perhaps someone I could actually _trust._

“Come,” she said, “Why don’t we talk somewhere a bit more private?” She waved her hand, and my armor and sword vanished into thin air.

“I just don’t understand you,” I told her as I shook my head.

She chuckled, seemingly amused. “Then perhaps it’s time we changed that, my dear.”

She brought me into a dimly-lit room with a crackling fire within a mantel. The walls were lined with tall shelves containing what seemed to be hundreds of books. She sat me down in a chair before the fire and took a seat next to me.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” she said, “Your parents know me as the Evil Queen, but you, my dear, may call me _Regina.”_

I was taken aback by this. “Regina,” I whispered, “That’s a nice name.”

A smile graced her painted lips. “As is yours,” she said, _“Em-ma.”_

Heat rose to my cheeks as she uttered my name, and I was certain it had nothing to do with the fire. My breath quivered and I felt my thighs clench of their own accord. Somehow— some way— she noticed. Her smile grew into a rather sly grin, revealing her perfect teeth, and she leaned forward a bit.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked in a husky voice.

I swallowed. “U-Uncomfortable?” I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

She chuckled softly. “Then what are you feeling, Princess?”

“You, um, don’t have to call me that.”

She shook her head. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Again, I swallowed. “I— I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I told her.

She seemed to accept this and sat back. “Tell me,” she said, “are you a maiden?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Hm. Interesting. You seem like you could have any man you wanted.”

“I, um, don’t fancy men,” I confessed, “though my parents have always tried getting me to marry one.”

“Typical,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

A faint smile returned to her admittedly-beautiful face as she stood up, approaching me slowly. Our eyes locked and I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried. Wordlessly— gently— she reached down and took hold of my hand. I gasped when she brought it to her lips and planted a light kiss to my knuckles.

“I take it you prefer the fairer sex, then?”

“Y-Yes,” I whispered, “I know it’s wrong, but I—”

She pressed a finger to my lips. “No,” she told me, “There is nothing wrong with feeling the way you do. Did your parents tell you that?”

I could only nod.

A sigh of frustration escaped the Queen. “Well, it is _they_ who are wrong,” she said adamantly, now clasping both her hands around my own. “I want to be your friend, _Em-ma.”_

“Is— Is that _all_ you want?”

“Is that what _you_ want?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Before I had the chance, the Queen just smiled and brushed my knuckles with her thumb. The sensation made me bite my lip as a pleasant chill ran up my spine.

“I won’t force you into anything you aren’t ready for,” she said, _“unlike your parents.”_

Her words rang true, but in the days that followed, her actions spoke far louder. Her hands would come to rest on my shoulders, and sometimes I would feel them caress my face. She’d kiss my hand, my shoulder, and even the back of my neck. It wasn’t until a week after we met that her lips met mine.

One evening, I was sitting in front of the fireplace when she appeared next to me in the parlor. She gave me a cup and filled it with wine. I waited until she took a sip of her own drink, just to be sure, before I brought it to my lips. We talked long into the night, and I suppose now that it was magic, but at the time, I was bewildered when I never could empty my cup.

It seemed that each time I took a sip, more wine would take its place. I was drunk before I knew it. I’m certain we both were. She kissed me. I didn’t fight her. It was nice. Perhaps that should worry me, but it doesn’t. I enjoyed the kiss. Her lips were soft, like velvet, and as sweet as apples. I’m a bit reluctant to admit I wanted more, but she didn’t take it any further than that. Just one kiss, along with a gentle touch to my cheek.

Afterwards, I saw a flash of panic in her eyes and she vanished suddenly, leaving me to my own devices. I left the parlor and made my way to my room at the end of the corridor, close to the Queen’s. I fell into a deep slumber the moment I collapsed onto my bed.

The following morning, as I was outside admiring the garden, the Queen appeared to me with a look of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she told me, “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

I smiled softly. “I didn’t see it that way. It was, well, rather nice.”

She shook her head. “It was still wrong of me. I should have asked.”

“You’re the Queen. You don’t need permission to kiss me.”

“Queen or not, I would like to have your express consent in the future.”

“It was just a kiss,” I said.

“You’ve been kissed before?”

“Of course. I’ve just never made love to anyone.”

The Queen snorted. _“Made love,”_ she mocked, “Oh, _please.”_ She placed a hand upon my shoulder and stared deep into my eyes as her face softened. “I won’t do that to you again. Not ever— unless you ask me to.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Will you kiss me?”

She sighed. “I suppose I walked right into that one.” She gently lifted my chin and pressed her lips to mine, ever so sweetly. “Is that to your liking?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “It is,” I told her, “Very much so.”

I ended up staying there for three months, oblivious to what exactly was going on out in the real world, but to be quite honest, I preferred it that way. Best not to worry about people who sent me here on a suicide mission. For all they knew, I had been killed. Little did they know, I had formed a strong friendship with their greatest enemy. It was a bit more than friendship. We would often kiss and lie together, but it never went beyond that. She never made any attempt to seduce me, or force me into any sexual acts, just as she’d promised.

One night, I was suffering from a terrible dream. I awoke in a cold sweat, struggling to catch my breath. My heart was racing like a wild stallion. I felt the Queen’s arms wrap around me and hold me close to her. She cradled my head against her chest, and I was soothed by the soft, steady beat of her heart.

“It’s alright,” she rasped, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here, Emma.”

I trusted her. I trusted her completely. There wasn’t even a _hint_ of doubt in my mind that she meant every word. She held me in her arms and I lied there in contented silence. It was incredible how far we’d come— how forgiving and understanding this woman was. She wasn’t evil. My parents were (well, the people I once knew as my parents, anyway). Of that, I was absolutely certain.

As I drifted back into a deep sleep, I felt the Queen snake an arm around my waist and pull me close, taking on a spooning position. She lightly kissed the back of my neck.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” she murmured.

_I slipped into the realm of dreams, and I envisioned the Queen placing a glowing heart into my hands. It had patches of darkness within it._

_“Regina? Whose heart is this?”_

_“Mine,” she told me with a faint smile, “It belongs to you now, Emma.”_

_As her words slowly sunk in, I was able to reach within myself and pull out my own beating heart. It was completely red. I set it in her hands, and she cradled it with care._

_“I love you,” I told her._

_Her smile widened. “And I you, my sweet,” she said, “More than you can ever know.”_


End file.
